Murray Street and West Broadway

I hate to leave New York in the springtime, when I know that any minute (surely) it’s going to feel like Florida. (Back next week, sometime.)

Chambers Street and West Broadway

In the subway station, a woman overheard complaining about the train:  “Closing the doors early like that: that’s just the devil’s work.”

Broadway and Columbus Circle

A crowd of chairs trying, failing to seduce pedestrians.

Broadway and Walker Street

Random balloons, gray afternoon. Perhaps an urban symbol of optimism. Or the sign of a sidewalk sale.

West Broadway and Chambers Street

Appearances can be deceiving—or, rather, disappearing.

Bleecker Street and Bank Street

A wash of red lacquer in the new Nars store almost distracts from the array of lipsticks but not quite. Overheard on the street: “I want to go into that store and see if I can find the perfect red lipstick and then not buy it.”

Grand Street and Broadway

The stash is in Soho, apparently.

Central Park

A last glimpse of winter landscape, before spring sweeps away all the dust colors.

Bleecker Street and 11th Street

Accidental collage in the window at Bookmarc, a sort of bookshop (that is, there are some gorgeous art books inside—that’s Issue 58 of Visionaire in the window—and a scattering of other volumes alongside all kinds of Marc Jacobs trinkets, such as $3 shiny band rings stamped with Latin phrases).

Murray Street and Church Street

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

10th Street and Seventh Avenue

An Irish vignette in the window this week at Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks—which appears to have any out-of-print cookbook, Irish or otherwise, that you might be looking for, stuffed somewhere inside. (While browsing through the southern section, I noticed a battered but perfectly good copy of Caterin' to Charleston, a cookbook I’ve used for 20 years and written by a friend in South Carolina. And I bought, on a whim, the cookbook from the Fearrington Inn, where I once had some really delicious biscuits and bacon.)

20th Street and Eleventh Avenue

Shades of pink in the windows. For a rose-tinted view of whatever. “Maybe because he was having an interior crisis with himself.”— overheard on the sidewalk.

Fifth Avenue and 60th Street

A surprise on the sidewalk: artist Eva Rothschild’s sculpture called Empire. “Responding to the site, a point of transition between city and park, Rothschild has taken inspiration from the naturally arching canopy formed by Central Park’s mature trees,” according to the nearby information panel. Read more about the project here. But “we are free to make our own associations.”

Sixth Avenue and 21st Street

Each neighborhood of the city appeared to be made of a different substance, each seemed to have a different air pressure, a different psychic weight: the bright lights and shuttered shops, the housing projects and luxury hotels, the fire escapes and city parks.

            —from Open City by Teju Cole

(This photo shows a bit of the Mattel Building, which now houses Trader Joe’s.)

Howard Street and Lafayette Street

Spring mint green escape, while an iron wind bends the sidewalkers: seasons change (in winter).

66th Street and Broadway

Subway station mosaic near Lincoln Center—but sometimes you don’t need to exit to hear the music.

Murray Street and West Broadway

Tropical vibe on the sidewalk. (I’m going on vacation. So is the Amish Market maybe. See you next week.)

17th Street and Seventh Avenue

Overheard while browsing the racks at the Barneys warehouse sale: “I need a more exotic shoe.” (Who doesn’t.)

57th Street and Seventh Avenue

Rimbaud’s “systematic derangement of the senses” was his way of becoming a poet. Witness the derangement of the fences on the way to becoming a poet in New York City.